


tea, milk, and honey

by TotallynotRemus



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Nightmares, No Incest, Not Beta Read We Die Like Ben, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallynotRemus/pseuds/TotallynotRemus
Summary: Of all things Klaus expected to see when going downstairs in the middle of the night to get himself a midnight snack, a completely shitfaced Five sitting by the bar while hugging a half-empty bottle of whiskey and singing to himself definitely wasn’t on the top of his list. Actually, scratch that. It wasn’t on the list at all.Or, someone forgot to tell Klaus about Five's alcoholic tendencies, and he has to find that out for himself. Cue to sibling bonding.For the Bad Things Happen bingo - Big Brother Instinct.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514339
Comments: 36
Kudos: 401





	tea, milk, and honey

**Author's Note:**

> this whole fic started because i noticed that klaus is literally...... never present in any scene where five is either drunk or drinking. when the siblings find him drunk, klaus is being tortured. the guy just Does Not Know his lil older brother is an alcoholic.
> 
> also i needed some ptsd bonding because like c'mon. c'mon. i just needed it.
> 
> hope you guys enjoy it! <3 (Thank you Sara, Roo and Val for always helping me <3)

Of all things Klaus expected to see when going downstairs in the middle of the night to get himself a midnight snack, a completely shitfaced Five sitting by the bar while hugging a half-empty bottle of whiskey and singing to himself definitely wasn’t on the top of his list. Actually, it wasn’t on the list at all. He would’ve thought Five would be above something like this; he’s too smart for it. Too logical and dignified, unlike Klaus.

This isn’t like him.

“Five?” he calls as he approaches him, confused and worried for his littlest older brother. “Uh… what’s happening here, little buddy?”

Five doesn’t react much to his name beyond turning his head to Klaus’ general direction and pausing his— frankly depressing— singing. Now that he’s closer Klaus can see his face is a mess of snot and tear tracks, and there’s a large wet spot on his pajama top that by the smell of it can only be an alcohol stain. It’s… not a pretty sight. But it is a familiar one.

It only makes him more worried that something happened. The only thing he can think of is the apocalypse, but that’s behind them now, or at least it should be, what with Vanya growing more in control of her powers with each day and not being, you know, still all murder-y and scary.

Klaus frowns. “Five?”

There’s a snort, then finally Five looks up at him. “What.”

“You’re drunk.”

“What a— what a _fantastic_ observation, Number Four. Why, you should be a freaking detective!”

Klaus grimaces, because Jesus, the amount of salt on those two sentences alone is both impressive and uncalled for, for all that it was admittedly a pretty stupid thing to say. But can you blame him? It’s not like Klaus knows what he’s doing. He’s not qualified to deal with this— his one and only experience with dealing with a distressed, drunken sibling _really_ did not go well for him and he’d prefer to not repeat it, thank you very much.

“Right. So, what brought this on?” Klaus asks, eyeing the whiskey bottle. He hopes that it was already that empty when Five’s little gremlin hands got hold of it, if only because that’s a concerning amount of alcohol for such a small body. Somehow, he doubts it.

Though it’s not like Klaus of all people can judge him on that.

He smiles, though it feels bleak. 

“Because I’ll have you know that the role of the alcoholic family disappointment is already taken, Fivey,” he says almost automatically with an air of cheerfulness he doesn’t feel, uncomfortable with the situation and desperate to lighten the mood and find his footing again. He ignores Five’s scoff. “First Luther, now you. I can’t have you trying to take my job now, can I? That’s my shtick. I’ve been working hard on it for years!”

Five raises his eyebrows at him, unimpressed.

“I thought you were still pretending to be sober?” he asks sarcastically, with a smile that is more teeth than anything else.

Ouch.

Klaus nods, chuckling as though the dig doesn’t hurt. He knows— he’s pretty sure, at least— that Five believes him and doesn’t really mean that, and he’s no stranger himself to the awful things that booze can sometimes bring out in you. It’s fine. As the latins said, in vino lies a bitch and all that. It would be hypocritical of Klaus to hold it against Five after all the shit he’s said and done in his past.

But knowing that doesn’t make not being believed any less of a sore spot.

He’s trying, alright? That should count for something.

“Just because I’m sober now doesn’t change the fact that I still did it first,” Klaus says, shrugging off the insult with practice. “I mean please, at least have a little more originality! I practically invented this whole ‘embarrassing mess of a drunkard who’s one second away from passing out on top of his own puke’ look. It doesn’t suit you.”

He looks Five up and down, pretending to be measuring him up in mock-judgement. But what he sees however only makes his heart hurt.

Klaus knows, logically, that Five is in his late fifties and is older than them all— the old man himself always makes sure to not let anyone forget it, and he spares no venom in order to do so— but it doesn’t change the fact that he still looks thirteen. He looks like a _child._

And not just any child either, but Klaus’ little brother.

The same brother that used to play pranks on their siblings with him, the perfect partners in crime, laughter echoing through the old halls of the Academy as Five jumped around to escape Luther’s wrath always just a second before getting caught, just to add insult to the injury with a smug smile on his face as Klaus cheered and clapped in the background, and that would infuriate them with his never-ending arrogance and stubbornness that would turn out to be his downfall.

The one that he’d lost years ago and will never get back, for all that they have Five again.

Because that Five is long dead, his laughter dead with him, and not in the same way that Ben is, not in a way that allows him to still be there, but _gone._ Out of his reach, lost in a world of ashes and impossible choices. Leaving them unable to ever truly grieve.

It looks wrong.

“Yeah, nah. It doesn’t fit your vibe at all,” Klaus continues, a moment too late. His tone is a little off, voice wavering despite his attempt to keep it in check, but Klaus compensates for it by forcing a smile on his face. If Five notices how shaky it is, he doesn’t mention.

Klaus had only been seven when he started drinking. By thirteen, he’d already been getting blackout drunk almost every night just to be able to fall asleep.

_Is that what he had looked like, too?_

The thought makes him freeze on his spot, and Klaus can’t help but sneak another glance at Five, taking in every detail with new eyes. It’s hard to bear, but he takes it all in. The glassy eyes that don't belong in a face so young, the stink of whiskey that could be smelt from where Klaus is standing. The expensive Balvenie bottle in his hands that looks so horribly out of place against the childish baby blue of Five’s Academy pajamas.

It hadn’t been long after Five was gone that Mom started to lock the medicine cabinet, finally catching on to where the missing pills were going and why, and Klaus started getting desperate— falling harder into the slippery slope that is the world of drug addiction until he’d been snorting lines before breakfast and in between lessons, unable to bear a second longer without a pick-me-up.

That’s— 

That’s pretty messed up, isn’t it? He’d never stopped to think about how young he must’ve been, when it all started. At thirteen years old they were already killers— with the exception of Vanya, or so they had thought at that age— and everything else had just pretty much paled when compared to that. God, but Klaus had been practically a _baby._

_(Why did nobody help him? Why did nobody care?)_

He turns back to Five, who’s seemingly already forgotten Klaus is even there and is distracted muttering to himself, far too low and slurred for Klaus to be able to make sense of with the exception of the few random words now and then.

A thought occurs to him. 

“Five?” Klaus frowns, not discouraged when that only gets him a noise of acknowledgement. “Is there something we should be worried about?”

Five shrugs, muttering something unintelligible and making Klaus turn his head and get closer in order to hear him better. 

“What?”

“I had a _nightmare,”_ Five spits out, like the words feel disgusting on his tongue, glaring at the floor like it is at fault. Oh. Oh, shit. “I didn’t know where I was when I woke up, I thought I was there again, that I still— that there was still a job to do. Stupid. Acting like a child over a little dream.”

Klaus is so, so not qualified for this.

Five takes another swing of the bottle, bitter and unflinching, his movements practiced despite being slowed down by the alcohol, and Klaus feels a surge of overprotectiveness rushing through him at the sight of him retching. It’s ridiculous and hypocritical and Five might very well stab him for it, but he can’t help it. It’s hard to remember he isn’t a child when he looks this vulnerable.

There goes another disturbing thought. Five and vulnerability; another combination that should be impossible and his mind struggles to grasp, yet there it is right in front of him. In normal circumstances, Five never would’ve allowed to be seen like this.

Klaus takes a deep breath, and calculates the chances of getting murdered the next morning for this.

He sighs. “Alright, old man,” he says, and did Klaus always sound this tired? “Pass me that bottle.”

Five stares at him for a moment before snorting and offering it to him, only to protest disgruntledly when instead of drinking Klaus only settles it on the bar behind them and sits down on the floor next to him, not looking at Five as he rests his arm on one knee and leans back.

The silence only lasts a few seconds before Klaus breaks it.

“I still have dreams of the jungle,” he tells Five despite wanting to do anything but, and every word that comes out of his mouth feels like pulling teeth. He wonders if Ben will be proud. “Of having a gun in my hands and shooting at shadows without even knowing if they are real or not, just hoping to get the people next to me to live another day. The noise and the heat so real that it’s almost like I’m still there, like I never left the war.”

He isn’t always sleeping when it happens, but he doubts he needs to tell Five that. The other understands it all the same.

Klaus feels his brother looking at him and turns to give him a sardonic smile. “Vietnam, Five. That’s where the briefcase took me.”

“Shit.”

“Shit,” Klaus repeats, chuckling humorless. He’d honestly thought Five knew.

The worst part, he thinks, is how disappointed he feels sometimes to find that he’s back. Things were easier then. Simpler.

“I couldn’t tell what was real,” Five says, letting his head hit the bar behind them with a thunk that makes Klaus wince. “I was afraid I’d failed, or that the apocalypse was still on and I was left unprepared for it. It should be over already, we _won._ I should be over this.”

Klaus wishes it were that easy.

“That’s PTSD for you.”

Five barks a bitter laughter before nodding. His hand searches for the whiskey that is no longer there and he frowns, confused. “Where…?”

Deciding to quickly divert him from that line of thought, Klaus claps, drawing attention to himself as he stands up and offers a hand down for Five to join him, helping him stand when the other almost falls over only to have his hands shoved away after. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but hey, Klaus has always been better at improvising. He just has to think to himself: W.W.B.D. What Would Ben Do? That isn’t silently judge and offer sarcastic comments, that is. Somehow he doesn’t think that would be very helpful.

“Okay! Come on, buddy. I’ll make us some tea to help us sleep,” Klaus offers, already leading Five down to the kitchen by the shoulders. He'd already been planning on making himself a cup anyway. “Trust me, it does wonders.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Of course not. Now come, I’ll even make yours a monstrosity with lots of milk and honey in it. I know you have a sweet tooth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please don't forget to give kudos if you liked it and leave a comment telling me your thoughts, they feed the hungry author's soul! <3 Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on tumblr @ my tua blog bentacles-hargreeves, or even @ my main remuslupinsmiled, where I'm up to talk about literally anything and am almost always online!


End file.
